


Ain't Afraid of No Ghosts

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Series: Ain't Afraid of No Ghosts [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, F/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 21:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16752088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: You’re not happy when the Winchester brothers show up to steal your hunt, no matter how cute you think the older one is.





	Ain't Afraid of No Ghosts

“Okay,” you mutter to yourself as you climb the rickety stairs in the old house, “let’s try not to die  _before_  we find the scary ghost.” 

Finally getting to the top floor, you find the master bedroom where she’s said to appear, every December 6th at midnight on the dot. You’ve been tracking this ghost down for weeks,  _years_ , really. 

The house was always under renovation or boarded up, or you couldn’t figure out what the ghost’s tether was, but now you were ready. You’ve been reading about this legend forever and now you’re finally going to finish this job that’s one of the only unfinished ones on your long list.

Camping out in the master bedroom, you grab your shotgun from your bag and wait. You know this particular hunt won’t be easy. This is one of the only ghosts you know of that carries something of theirs  _with_  them. The necklace you need to burn hangs on this lady’s ghostly neck, and you need to snatch it before she has a chance to either try to choke you to death - a ghost’s preferred method, you’ve discovered - or push you down a flight of stairs, whichever comes first.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” you say quietly, a smirk on your face. This is easily the craziest thing you’ve ever done in your only few years as a hunter. You’re barely a hunter, really. You mostly stick to ghosts and the occasional poltergeist if you come across one.

Feeling goosebumps rise on your skin, you grab your shotgun and look around the room warily, watching your breath mist in front of your face. 

Your skin crawls, and you spin around coming face to face with the lady of the house herself, and fight back against the rapid pounding of your heart that always comes with this situation, no matter how often you find yourself staring down a ghost.

“Nice of you to show up.” You tell her, and she scowls at you, knocking you back against the opposite wall in a rush of energy. “Ow.” You groan, picking yourself up, rolling your eyes when you see she’s disappeared. “Now, don’t run off! We were just beginning to become friends!”

She appears again, this time right in front of you, and you’re prepared when her hand shoots out and grips you by the neck. Bracing yourself, you suck in a deep breath and scrabble for the necklace around her neck. You just need to hold her off long enough to grab the thing, and then you can fight your way out of her grip long enough to burn it. 

Your fingers finally find the large charm on the end, and you grab it, struggling away from her as you feel your oxygen beginning to run low. Time to kick it into overdrive. Just as you’re about to try to rip yourself out of her grasp, the door to the bedroom flies open, and two men burst in, aiming their guns at you. 

You try to choke out your own warning, but before you can even blink, the shorter one fires off his gun, sending the ghost  _and_  her necklace into wherever it is ghosts go when they get shot. You drop to the floor and fight the urge to scream (not that you could if you wanted to; that ghost has one hell of a tight grip) when you realize you didn’t get the necklace  _again_. 

“Are you okay?” The taller man asks, coming to kneel beside you as you struggle to catch your breath. 

“Are you  _kidding me_?” You screech when you finally have your voice back. “I have been after that  _stupid, ugly necklace_  for weeks and then you burst in here and she’s gone!” 

The shorter man makes a face of disbelief and looks at his – his friend, partner, whatever. “Sorry we saved your ass, sweetheart.” He tells you sarcastically, and you bark out a laugh.

“Oh yeah, really great job. What, do you want my undying devotion now?” 

“A little gratitude might be nice seeing as how you were almost choked to death before we showed up–”

“No one  _asked_  for your help.” You say, glaring at him. “I had it under control. I had a  _plan_.”

He scoffs. “Looks like it was going really well.”

“Dean–” The tall man next to you tries to interrupt. 

“Look, I appreciate it, but this lady only shows up–”

“Once a year at midnight.” The tall one finishes. “We know.”

“Great. So you know that it is well after midnight.” 

“She might come back.”

“Might, but probably not. I’ve been hunting this lady for years. She’s unpredictable, for a ghost.” 

The shorter one rolls his eyes. “Look, we’re here to do the same thing you are–”

“So you should know that the only thing keeping her here is that necklace that she’s holding on to! The one I had  _in my hand_  before you showed up, asshole.” 

“Again, you’re welcome for saving your life and all. We’ll just go ahead and get out of your way, then.” He glares at you one last time before turning towards the door, gun in hand. “Sam, let’s go.” 

The taller man next to you straightens up to his full height, hesitating before holding out a hand, offering to help you up. You take it begrudgingly. “Sorry.” He mutters. “You sure you’re okay?”

You soften slightly. Something about this guy’s puppy eyes. “I’m all right. Thanks. Sorry for yelling.” 

He chuckles. “No worries. Happens a lot when Dean is around.” 

Your eyes narrow. “You’re not Sam Winchester…?”

He frowns. “Yeah, actually. Sam and Dean Winchester.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Of course you are.” 

“What?”

“Nothing!” You say brightly. “Look, I’m going to camp out here for the night and hope she shows back up. I really don’t need any help, so thanks so much, but I’m fine.” 

Sam looks skeptical. “Okay. We’ll… see you around then.” He leaves the room, and you can hear him talking to his brother in low, hushed tones before you hear the front door open and shut. 

You know a little about them, though, and you know they drive a loud-ass car. You never hear an engine and roll your eyes, knowing they’re sitting out there on the curb just waiting for your to get your ass kicked again so they can show up and save the day.

“Idiots.” You mutter before resuming your post against the wall, trying to keep yourself awake.

 

.

.

.

 

Look, Dean is not a stranger to people who don’t want their help. It happens almost every day, in fact. People either refuse to believe what they’re seeing or hearing is real, or people just don’t want to get involved. It’s fine. It happens.

It doesn’t usually happen with other hunters, though. Now, Dean’s not an idiot. He knows he and Sam have caused some shit in the world. He doesn’t expect everyone they meet to suddenly fawn all over them and thank them profusely, but in his experience, when he saves someone from getting choked by a vengeful spirit, they usually don’t yell at him afterwards.

“Can we go now?” He asks Sam, a scowl on his face.

“I think we should stick around until this thing comes back.”

“She said she has it handled.” Dean reminds him, frowning. “If she doesn’t want our help, it’s her funeral.”

“It could literally end up being her funeral if she needs help and no one’s around.”

“She seemed to know what she was doing, Sam.” Dean admits. He has no idea who this girl is, but he knows a hunter when he sees one. 

Sam smirks. “You’re just mad because she didn’t fall in love with you at first sight  _and_  she called you an asshole.”

“ _You’re_  an asshole.” Dean mutters.

Sam laughs. “Good one.” 

They sit there for a few hours, Dean dozing in and out of consciousness as they wait for morning to come before Sam shakes him awake. When Dean opens his eyes, the sun is coming up, and he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Can we go now?”

“Something’s not right.” Sam says, his eyes on the house. “She should have come out hours ago. Once the sun started coming up she would have known she missed the ghost this time.”

“She’s probably asleep, Sam.” Dean says, even though there’s a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that agrees with his brother. Something’s fishy about this.

Suddenly a shriek sounds from the inside of the house, and Sam and Dean are out of the car and running before they know what they’re doing. Dean bursts into the house, taking the stairs two at a time before he sees her, shotgun in hand as she aims at the ghost across from the room from her.

Her head snaps to face him and he’s blindsided momentarily by the fire in her eyes. 

“If you come any closer and ruin this for me, so help me God, I will punch you right in that pretty face of yours, Dean Winchester!” She yells over the shrieking coming from the ghost across from her, trapped on one side of the room in a salt circle. 

“I knew you thought I was pretty.” Dean snarks, coming closer slowly, his own gun tight in his grip. He enters the room, the door slamming shut after him, Sam shouting his name on the other side.

“Here’s how this is going to go, Winchester.” She says, never taking her eyes off the spirit trapped on the other side of the room. “Slowly, I am going to kick a hole in that salt circle.” She inches a little closer. “She’s going to come after me, and you’re going to grab that necklace off her neck before she kills me and burn it. Got it?”

Dean bristles as he always does when someone tells him what to do, but knows what it’s like when you’re  _this close_  to finishing off a hunt you’ve been itching to take care of. 

He watches as she takes a step closer to the salt line, and finds himself holding his breath as she toes a little bit of the salt out of the way, breaking the line. Almost instantly the ghost is moving, but you’re both caught off guard when it heads for Dean instead.

Dean winces as his back hits the wall. “God dammit–” He curses before he meets her wide eyes. The eye contact seems to center her, moving swiftly, while the ghost is otherwise occupied. 

He watches as she rips the necklace from the ghost’s neck and dives for her bag before the ghost shrieks again in outrage, tightening her grip on Dean’s neck. “Hurry up–” He chokes, and she scowls.

“I  _know_ –” She cut herself off as she finally finds the lighter and gasoline, and she quickly drops the necklace to the floor, drenching it in gasoline before quickly lighting it as Dean watches helplessly as the ghost seems to latch on to her ankle, trying to drag her away from the necklace. 

A second later, Dean feels her grip slacken as she screams and goes up in a fiery  _poof_ , and then they’re both left lying there, shirts half torn from the splintered floorboards as both he and this girl he still doesn’t even know the name of try to catch their breath. Dean sinks to the floor, his labored breathing the only sound in the room before the door finally gives way as Sam kicks it open.

“A little late, dude.” She says, and he rolls his eyes.

“Everyone okay?” He asks, helping her to her feet before he turns to look back at Dean, who struggles to his feet as well. 

“Never better,” she says, grinning. Dean blinks rapidly, mesmerized by how her entire face changes when she smiles. He shakes his head, trying to remember how annoyed he is with this entire situation before she turns back to the bag, gathering supplies. “We’re even now, I guess.” She says to Dean as she shoulders the bag, sauntering towards the door. “Thanks for the help.” 

Dean doesn’t even have time to respond before she’s gone, practically skipping out the front door.

 

.

.

.

 

A knock at your hotel door surprises you out of your post-ghost-killing-shower bliss and you grab your handgun from under your pillow before checking the peephole, rolling your eyes when a familiar green-eyed hunter stands there, hands shoved in the pockets of his coat.

“I can see you.” He says when he looks up, and you swear softly.

Opening the door, you fake a smile. “Dean! So lovely to see you. What do you want?”

He actually looks like he’s trying not to smile as he waits for you to stop talking, the corners of his mouth twitching. (Not that you’re looking at his mouth. You’re not.) “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t banged up too badly, that’s all.” 

“Did Sam convince you to come here?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Can I come in?” 

You sigh but let him pass you, shutting the door and locking it behind him. 

“Look, you’re right. I was an asshole earlier. I don’t expect you to– to shower us in praise or anything. I just– didn’t expect you.”

“That makes two of us.” You say, sitting on the edge of your bed as you watch him fidget. 

“So…” he shrugs a little helplessly. “That’s it.”

“Great.” You say, kind of enjoying watching him grow frustrated. “Thanks.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but shuts it again, gesturing towards the door. “So. I guess I’ll just go, then.” He hesitates again for a half second before heading towards the door, shaking his head.

“Dean.” You call when he’s got one hand on the doorknob. He turns around, eyebrows raised. “If you want to know my name you can just ask.” 

Some of the tension seeps out of his shoulders at that, and he smiles sheepishly at you. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be good.” 

 

.

.

.

 

An hour later you’re laughing over a burger and a beer at the dive down the street from the motel, and trying not to notice the scruff on his jaw or the little wrinkles next to his eyes when he smiles. 

“So that’s how you got into hunting? You were accidentally ghost hunting.” His voice is disbelieving. 

“It was fun!” You defend yourself, laughing. “That’s how I met Jody. Ghost in the Sheriff’s station. She gives me a call every now and then when she thinks something is up.” 

Dean nods, chewing thoughtfully. “How is it we’ve never met, then? Jody’s never mentioned you.” 

You shrug, taking a long drag from your bottle. “I’m not–” You pause, trying to figure out how to word it. “This sounds stupid, but I’m still pretty green. I’ve only been doing this for a few years, and I try to stick to ghosts.”

Dean nods. “Nothing wrong with that. Sticking what you know.”

You scoff. “Yeah, but compared to you and your brother? I barely know anything. I asked Jody to keep me out of the other stuff. I know about it, and I could defend myself if I have to, but I’m not actively looking for those types of hunts.” 

You look down, suddenly embarrassed. Should you even call yourself a hunter when you’ve never really hunted anything?

“Hey.” Dean’s voice gets your attention, but not more than when he settles his hand overtop of yours briefly. “Nothin’ to be ashamed of. Hell, we barely know what we’re doing half the time. Drives Bobby out of his damn mind.”

You grin at that. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess.” You clear your throat, trying to lift the weird mood from the table. “I should go, probably.” 

He looks a little surprised, but hides it well. “Oh. Yeah, yeah no problem. I’ll walk you to your car.” 

You raise your eyebrows, and he gives you a  _look_. 

“Old habits die hard, kid. Just– just walk with me, alright?” 

You bite back a grin as you grab your jacket off the back of the chair you’re sitting in. “Fine.” 

You’re both quiet as you walk out to the parking lot, towards your car where it’s parked under a streetlight. “Sorry,” you say when you get there, leaning back against the driver’s side door, “for calling you an asshole earlier. You were just trying to help.”

Dean shrugs. “If I had a nickel for every time someone called me an asshole…” he trails off, his eyes practically sparkling.

You look down at your boots, feeling awkward all of a sudden. “Well, thanks anyway. I guess I’ll see you around, Winchester.” 

“Yeah.” He replies, voice gruff. “If you– if you ever find yourself in over your head, or find something you think we should look into, call me.” He tells you, handing you a napkin from the bar with his number scrawled on it. “Sam’s is there too.” 

You laugh. “Oh good. Sam likes me better, anyway.” 

“I don’t know about that.” He says quietly, with a smile, and though you know he’s just laughing off your joke, you can’t help the way you sway towards him slightly, something about the deep timbre of his voice setting your blood running hot. He looks kind of dazed, but stays where he is, jaw tightening. “Take care of yourself, kid.” He tells you, and you nod. 

“Always do.” 

He smiles at you one last time before turning away, heading towards his own car parked a few spots down from yours. You laugh, a little breathlessly, before getting in the car, shaking your head.

Dean Winchester. Who would have thought.


End file.
